Saturday morning. I have to go get a brake tag for the new car, and get the mail and go to the grocery store, and then I am going to spend the day writing, cleaning, and organizing. I had to find the title for the Buick this week preparatory to going to buy the new car, and as such discovered the horrendous mess that resides inside my file cabinets. I was planning on waiting until next weekend before doing something–anything–about them, but I doubt I can let this stand. Just knowing that there is so much chaos existing in arm’s reach of my keyboard is really doing a number on me. Heavy heaving sigh.
The cabinets where I keep supplies and so forth? Also something straight out of a Stephen King novel. I keep waiting for one of the doors to creep open and something to say, we all float in here.
I still haven’t finished reading that short story–maybe tonight. I still haven’t finished the George Pelecanos novel, either. I don’t know what’s been going on with me lately, but I’ve had trouble reading–trouble doing anything, really. The Lost Apartment is an utter shambles, my storage places are horrific, and I am not getting anything done. But I made shrimp and grits when I got home last night (it was so NICE being able to park in the Rouse’s lot on the way home instead of the garage; power steering has changed my life), and then Paul and I just spent the evening getting caught up on our shows (last night, Modern Family and Nashville), and then we both went to bed relatively early. I also slept in till ten this morning, which is not normal for me–although I’ve been sleeping later and later, not sure what that is about, quite frankly.
And of all things, I started writing a short story this week. Because I have nothing else to write, of course. It’s title is “Quiet Desperation,” and it may turn into something relatively good. The idea behind it is clever–it came from a conversation I had with That Bitch Ford. We’ll see how it turns out, but so far I am thinking it’s clever.
“Thinking”, of course, being the operative word in that sentence.
Ah, well, perhaps I should get back to the spice mines.
Here’s a hunk for you: